


Light in Oblivion

by TheSlytherinRose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Canon Compliant, Community: lucissa, F/M, Harry Potter Bashing, Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Pregnancy, Previous Miscarriage, Second War with Voldemort, Torture, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinRose/pseuds/TheSlytherinRose
Summary: As the Wizarding World becomes aware of the Dark Lord's return, Narcissa Malfoy struggles to understand what it means for her family and their future. Shortly after Lucius's imprisonment, she discovers that she's pregnant, and she begins to hate the one responsible for her separation from her husband and finds herself losing all loyalty she once had for the Dark Lord.(Slowly updating and reposting the fic, which I took down a while back.)
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, lucissa - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Alone

" _I'll be home in no time. I won't let him keep me from you._ "

The words repeated in a loop through Narcissa's mind, tormenting her. Lucius had spoken them hours ago, and she'd wanted to believe him. Now, as she sat at her dresser in the dying candlelight, staring at the half-empty glass of wine she'd left there to avoid spilling it while she'd been thoroughly distracted by his kiss, she was beginning to lose hope.

She'd been too frustrated to say anything when he'd apologized for having to leave her. She'd lain still and stared at the ceiling, refusing to let him see how upset she was as he'd kissed her once more and then pulled away to get dressed.

This war was supposed to be over.

It was supposed to have ended fifteen years ago. When the Dark Lord had fallen, Lucius and Narcissa had been able to return to their lives, though not without a bit of difficulty and a lot of political persuasion. Narcissa had never liked lying, but when it was necessary to protect the people she loved, she could do it as easily as slipping on a smile. Of course Lucius had only served the Dark Lord under the influence of the Imperius Curse. Of course the Ministry had nothing to fear.

These lies had ensured that he could remain with her, could remain _safe_ and be around to watch Draco grow. After so long waiting and so many heartbreaking attempts at starting a family, they had finally been blessed with a son, and with the Dark Lord gone, they would be able to raise him together. Lucius had even managed to find work at the Ministry and expand his network of political connections.

Everything should've been _fine._

But it wasn't.

Narcissa had almost convinced herself that her family would continue to live in peace as Draco progressed in his schooling at Hogwarts. At the end of his fourth year, however, the Dark Lord had returned to demand the allegiance of everyone he'd left behind so long ago and make very clear his displeasure with those who had not, in his opinion, tried hard enough to find him. This included Lucius, whose denial of loyalty had not earned him favor. Over the next year, he had worked diligently to earn that favor back, and now, he was once again the Dark Lord's right-hand man.

The mission Lucius had departed on tonight was one Narcissa had known was coming for quite a while. The Dark Lord wanted to obtain a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, and he needed Harry Potter to retrieve it for him. Lucius was to lead the group of Death Eaters who would be waiting to ensure that Potter did as he was supposed to and that the plan succeeded. Even Narcissa had played a role in it, not that she embraced that knowledge. She tried hard not to think about what might happen to her cousin, now that she'd let slip how close Sirius was with Potter, which she'd heard from the elf Kreacher. Sirius had betrayed the Black family, yes, and Narcissa had yet to forgive him for abandoning her. As children, they'd played together, and when he'd started Hogwarts four years after she had, Narcissa had done her best to make her cousin feel safe and welcome at the school. He'd repaid her by falling in with a group of his fellow Gryffindors who had a particular distaste for anyone in Slytherin, and soon after, he'd chosen these people over his family.

Though she would never have admitted it to anyone but Lucius, Narcissa found she couldn't entirely blame Sirius for wanting a life apart from that offered by the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. If his parents had treated him anything like Narcissa's had treated her and her sisters, perhaps getting away from them had been the only way for Sirius to feel safe. Narcissa had barely endured her own; she'd thought wistfully of leaving home many times in her teenage years, but she'd held on. Then she'd had Lucius to run to, and everything had become exponentially better. He was her light in the darkness, and she was his.

If betraying the trust of the cousin who had betrayed hers would help to keep her husband in good standing with the man who often killed the followers who displeased him, Narcissa hadn't seen herself having much of a choice. She hoped Sirius would forgive her, but he was not her primary concern.

"Where are you?" she muttered, moving the wineglass over a centimeter with her fingertip and watching its contents ripple. Tonight was supposed to have been peaceful. Soon, Draco would be home from school for the summer holidays, and time alone with Lucius would be much more difficult to come by. Tonight, in an effort to take advantage of the time they did still have, Lucius had taken Narcissa to supper at her favorite restaurant, and then they'd returned home, where they'd been for less than an hour when he had received the summons to embark on his latest task.

Narcissa shivered. She was still wearing the dark red corset Lucius had bought her for her birthday in February as well as her undergarments and little else. After the second hour of waiting, she'd pulled on a white satin robe, as the candles hadn't been nearly enough to keep her warm.

" _I won't let him keep me from you._ "

 _Could you ever stop him from doing that?_ she asked Lucius mentally. She knew he meant every promise he made to her, and she appreciated that more than she knew how to express. She'd been lied to and manipulated by everyone from her own parents to people she'd believed were her friends over the years, but not by Lucius. The only lies he told her were ones of omission when he knew she didn't really want to know what he had been doing with the Death Eaters and the occasional, mostly harmless " _I'm fine, really_ " that he knew better than to think she would actually believe and would eventually admit was false, allowing her to assess and treat his injuries. Apart from that, he was always sincere with her. She knew he'd wanted to spend the evening in her arms, and she'd seen in his eyes that he'd been as reluctant to leave as she had been to let him go.

"I should've said something," she breathed now, shaking her head as she watched the candle sitting beside her hairbrush flicker out, darkening the room as only a few were left burning. "It wasn't your fault."

She never let him leave without assuring him that she would be waiting, ready to welcome him home and bombard him with questions about his well-being. She always said " _I love you_ " too many times as he left, wanting to make sure he knew—to make sure he didn't think she blamed him for having to go and that no matter what he did while he was gone, nothing would change. She would love him just the same. This time, she'd said the words, but they'd been so quiet that she wasn't certain if he'd heard them on his way out the door while she'd been fighting hard to keep herself together. Otherwise, she hadn't said a word after his Mark had begun to burn.

_He knows it's not him I'm angry with. He has to. ...Right?_

She'd told him as much hundreds of times, had assured him endlessly that she knew that whatever reasons had motivated him to join the Dark Lord in the first place, it was no longer a matter of choice to serve. Lucius had been happy with the life he'd had while the Dark Lord was gone—with just himself and her and Draco and whatever they chose to make of themselves. Narcissa knew he wouldn't have traded it in for a renewed contract of servitude and the constant threat of danger and death if he'd seen another option.

The familiar roar of flames sounded from downstairs.

Her heart leaping into her throat, Narcissa stood so quickly she knocked her chair to the carpet. She left it lying there and quickly tied the sash of her robe, hurrying out the bedroom door and down the corridor.

"You had me so worried," she called as she descended the steps, nearly tripping over her bare feet in her rush. The Manor was dark apart from a few scattered lanterns still soldiering on, but the moment she caught sight of the figure standing beside the fireplace in the foyer that had gone dormant again after being used for transportation, she recognized that the shape was not her husband's.

"Bella?" Narcissa breathed. Her sister stood staring into the empty fireplace, her dark hair in disarray and her posture tense. "What's happened? Where's Lucius?"

"He's not coming."

Narcissa froze. Her stomach turned sickeningly, and her body went rigid. "What?"

"He failed the Dark Lord." Bellatrix faced her sister at last, her lips set in a thin line. "He should've let me attack them, and if he had—"

" _What happened?_ " Narcissa demanded, taking a step toward Bellatrix with fire in her eyes.

"He got himself arrested!" cried Bellatrix. "Along with the rest of them!"

A wave of conflicted emotions crashed hard over Narcissa, nearly knocking her to the marble floor. _Arrested._ For years, she'd dreaded hearing this. She'd been plagued by nightmares in which she awaited Lucius's return only to have Aurors show up at the door to inform her that they'd finally realized where his loyalty lay. The thought of Lucius in prison, in _Azkaban_ , surrounded by dementors... it was enough to crush the air from Narcissa's lungs. She reached out for the nearest chair—the high-backed red one that was her husband's favorite—and gripped it tight to keep herself steady.

She'd always known this was a very real possibility. The thought had always lingered at the edge of her mind each time he'd walked out the door to do something for the Dark Lord, but somehow, she had always managed to keep herself from accepting it. Lucius would not allow himself to be captured, she'd told herself. Of course not.

Now that he had, she was torn between devastation and overwhelming, all-consuming relief. When Bellatrix had said he wasn't coming, arrest had not been the first thought to flit through Narcissa's mind. For a moment, she had been possessed by a terror unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. She had feared for Lucius's life on more occasions than she could count, but each of these times, he'd been the one to return to her. She'd seen that he was all right—often injured, but always in one piece—and her mind had been eased. This time, the wrong person had come home, and the words Bellatrix had used seemed to have been chosen specifically to give Narcissa the wrong impression.

Narcissa let out a long sigh, her hands tightening on the back of the chair as she stared at her sister. "Why are you here, Bella?"

"Someone needed to tell you." Bellatrix shrugged. "The Ministry is keeping them all in custody until the senten—"

"I mean, _why are you here and the rest are in custody?_ " Narcissa pressed. She seldom raised her voice to Bellatrix, but her patience was wearing thin, her chest heaving as she fought to keep the words from coming out in a scream. " _Why are you here while my husband isn't?_ "

"The Dark Lord saved me." Bellatrix's face was as haughty as it had ever been, but Narcissa thought she detected the edge of hurt in her sister's eyes at the question. "Lucius split us into groups and everything went all to hell, and after I killed Sirius, I followed—"

"After you _what_?" Narcissa felt as though she had been doused in cold water. There was no way she had heard that correctly. She knew her sister placed no value on the lives of most other people, but surely Bellatrix had her limits. Killing a family member was cold even for her.

The elder sister shrugged, her expression impassive. "Figured Dumbledore wouldn't like that, and it certainly got a rise out of that half-blood Potter."

"You... you killed our cousin." Narcissa didn't bother phrasing the words as a question. She realized she had been foolish to doubt Bellatrix capable of something like this. Of course she had done it. It was, she reasoned, more shocking that she hadn't done it sooner.

_Well, now Sirius can't forgive me._

"Our _traitor_ of a cousin, let me remind you." Bellatrix stepped forward and reached for Narcissa's shoulder, and the blond witch shrugged out of her sister's grip with an unconcealed shudder. "And after I did, I tried to draw Potter away from his little friends and get him alone, and the Dark Lord arrived."

"And where was Lucius?"

"With the rest of them, fighting Dumbledore and his people."

"And you didn't go back? You didn't even _try_?"

"I didn't have the chance, Cissy!" Bellatrix threw up her hands. "The Dark Lord took me with him when he left! You think I stuck around to see them all get arrested? I only know what happened because we've a few connections in Fudge's office still and they reported to our master after it was all over."

" _Your_ master," snarled Narcissa.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Now isn't the time for you to disrespect him, Cissy. He's very unhappy."

"Let him come and find me, then, and we'll see which of us is unhappier." In theory, Narcissa knew speaking of the Dark Lord like this to Bellatrix was probably one of the worst ideas she'd had in recent memory, but she didn't care. The man had once again found a way to tear her life apart, just when she'd almost believed things would be all right.

"I'm going to pretend," said Bellatrix slowly, "that I'm not hearing any of this. For your sake. But you need to know that the Dark Lord believes Lucius is at fault for this. He was supposed to lead us to the prophecy and ensure that we retrieved it."

"You said 'Dumbledore's people.' Are you talking about the Order?"

"I thought they were gone, but it seemed like—"

Narcissa cut her sister off. "And the Dark Lord expected Lucius to be able to stop all of them?" She laughed coldly. "Probably outnumbered and with no warning that Dumbledore himself would be part of the fight? That's lunacy."

"I should've been in charge." Bellatrix's nostrils flared, and she folded her arms over her chest. "I wouldn't have let this happen."

The Manor was silent for several moments as Narcissa stared at her sister, her eyes narrowed venomously. When she spoke at last, her voice was firm.

"Get out."

Bellatrix blinked. "And go where? They got Rodolphus, too, and the Dark Lord doesn't particularly want me to—"

"I don't _care_ right now, Bella. If you're going to speak ill of my husband, I want you out of my house."

Bellatrix's jaw tightened. She stood still for a few seconds, looking as though she wanted either to say something biting or fire some sort of curse, but then she turned on her heel and strode out the front door, slamming it behind her without another word.

Trembling, Narcissa made her way around the chair to drop into it slowly, drawing her knees up to her chest and staring into the empty fireplace as she began to weep. She would not accept this. She would make her way to the Ministry at first light and plead her case and do whatever she had to in order to ensure her husband's freedom.

Until then, she knew she would be able to do little more than sit here and scream at herself in her mind for not speaking more loudly when she'd said " _I love you_ " as he left—for not being completely sure that he'd heard her.


	2. Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa visits Lucius in Azkaban.

"I apologize, Lady Malfoy, but there's nothing we can do. Minister's orders."

Narcissa hadn't bothered attempting to sleep. She'd known it would be useless to do so, and instead, she'd spent her time preparing to face the Aurors. She'd studied more than her fair share of Wizarding law and politics over the years, whether by choice or by accident as Lucius had ranted to her about work and its frustrations, and she'd believed she was prepared to argue her way out of whatever excuse the Ministry tried to give her. Instead, they'd refuted her assertions that they were holding Lucius illegally and told her Minister Fudge had far more important things to deal with in the wake of the Ministry invasion than dealing with her complaints.

Lucius had always told her Fudge was an idiot, and now she found herself agreeing wholeheartedly. Fudge had seemed incompetent before, and Narcissa had often been of the mind that in his position advising the Minister, Lucius had been more in charge of things than had the other man. She'd hoped that the time the two had spent together and the willingness Lucius had always shown to assist Fudge and donate to whatever cause the Minister wished him to support would be worth _something_ when it came down to drawing lines of loyalty. Now, as she stood shivering through layers of clothing within the stone walls of the prison she'd taken a boat to reach, it was clear that she'd placed too much faith in the system. She would not make that mistake again.

"This is _illegal_ ," Narcissa asserted, glaring at the pair of Aurors blocking her path. "By our laws, until you've proven my husband guilty of something, you have no right to keep me from seeing him!"

"Minister Fudge believes this attack warrants an exception, considering your husband was in the company of several prisoners who escaped Azkaban recently after being convicted of some fairly heavy crimes. And, you know, wearing the robes of a Death Eater after breaking in to the bloody Ministry." The Auror watched her with narrowed eyes. Though he was at least half a foot taller than she, Narcissa returned his glare full-force and kept her chin raised in defiance.

"Regardless of what proof you think you have," she said, her voice cold, "it is not enough to give you permission to violate our rights or to speak to me in that way." She'd spent the morning arguing with low-level Ministry personnel and the afternoon talking her way through their ranks only to be denied an audience with Fudge and told to take up her grievance with the Auror Office. They'd only laughed at her, and so she'd made her way to Azkaban, planning to continue pestering whoever would listen until she made some sort of progress.

"I've tried telling you politely, but you insist on pressing the matter." The Auror folded his arms over his chest, taking a step toward his companion. "There's nothing I can do, and to be frank, considering the trouble your husband gave us getting here, I don't think I would even if I could. He's dangerous."

A vicious surge of pride and satisfaction swept through Narcissa at the idea of Lucius giving the Aurors difficulty. In her estimation, they more than deserved it, for what they'd done to him. Narcissa knew, deep down far enough that she was often able to convince herself that she didn't, that she couldn't deny the crimes Lucius had committed. She knew it was the Aurors' job to put a stop to dark magic, but that didn't give them the right to be unnecessarily antagonistic, and in all honesty, she didn't care that they were doing what they were paid to do. All she cared about at the moment was Lucius, and these people were keeping her from him, which was unacceptable.

Lucius was 'dangerous,' the Auror had said. Narcissa had half a mind to show the man 'dangerous,' if he said another word against her husband. She'd taken all she could stand from Bellatrix, and the stress of the situation combined with her lack of sleep and her agitation at herself for the way she'd acted the previous night had combined to utterly destroy her patience.

She opened her mouth to protest further, but she stopped cold when her attention was arrested by the sound of voices from down the corridor. She caught sight of a group of Aurors surrounding a smaller group clad in stripes, and behind these men and women hovered a pair of dementors.

Narcissa had started toward them before her mind had fully processed her decision to move. She didn't know exactly what she expected to find—even if Lucius was among the prisoners, she couldn't hope to get to him without interference from the guards or, at worst, the dementors. Still, she knew she had to try. She had to do _something_ , and if trying to reach him through a security detail was her only option, she thought, then so be it.

She ignored the shouts and footsteps from behind her—"You can't go that way!" "Get back here!"—and hurried forward. None of the faces of the Aurors were familiar, and the first person she caught sight of wearing the dull, oppressive prison colors was Travers, who met her gaze and nodded subtly to the side as the group's location and Narcissa's converged. She followed the gesture and shifted on her path, approaching from the other side and pretending not to notice the agitated cries of the guards both in front of and behind her.

_I don't care. I don't care what they do to me. I need to see him._

And there he was, the robes she'd last seen him in stripped away in favor of the Azkaban uniform that looked indescribably uncomfortable and the smile he'd tried to give her as an apology as he'd left nowhere to be found. His gaze was hard and pointed forward.

" _Lucius!_ "

He turned his head toward her, his grey eyes widening as he caught sight of her, and whatever compliance he'd shown to the Aurors evaporated. He pushed forward as she broke into a run, paying no mind to anyone or anything else and throwing her arms around his neck the instant she reached him.

"I'm so sorry," said Lucius, pulling her to him tightly and pressing his face to her hair. "They wouldn't let me contact you or—"

"This is not your fault." Narcissa shook her head hard as tears began to slip down her cheeks. "They're mad. They can't do this."

A hand closed around her arm and pulled her roughly backward, but still she held on, refusing to loosen her grip on her husband. She saw that several of the Aurors had now directed her attention to him and were attempting to pry the pair apart, but Lucius continued to struggle against them.

"They've already decided we're guilty," he said, shooting a poisonous look at one of the people who sought to pull him away before returning his focus to Narcissa.

"I'll get you out of here—I'll—I'll find a way." A second hand gripped her waist and pulled her back, and though she put the entirety of her weight into resisting, she knew she wouldn't be able to for long.

"Get yourself out of here!" Lucius glanced to the dementors, which had begun to glide forward to assist the human guards, and when his eyes returned to his wife's, they were panicked for the first time she could recall in years. "It's not safe. Protect Draco, Cissy, and protect yourself. I'll be fine." As one of the Aurors gave a particularly forceful pull, one of Lucius's hands slipped from Narcissa's waist, and she lost her grip on his shoulders. When he turned his head to snarl at the Auror, she noticed a dark marking along his neck that hadn't been there the previous night, and her stomach turned. After less than a day here, they had marked him. A series of numbers and letters was emblazoned on his pale skin, and suddenly, the urge to strike one of the people pulling at either of them rushed over Narcissa.

"I will," she called over the rising shouts of the people around her. A few of the other Death Eaters had seized the opportunity to attempt to fight their way out, and jets of light had begun to ricochet down the stone corridor. "Lucius, I'm—I'm so sorry I got angry with you, I know you couldn't help—"

" _Enough!_ "

The pair of Aurors restraining Narcissa lifted her from the ground in their effort to pull her backward, and she let out a frustrated cry, her feet seeking the floor unsuccessfully as they dragged her in the opposite direction their counterparts had begun to drag Lucius.

"I love you!" she shouted, and when she heard the words echo back across the space between them, she stopped resisting her captors and began to sob.

She was escorted back to the entrance, the Aurors continuing to glare at her as they stopped walking.

"Can we trust you not to cause any more disruptions?"

"Yes," she snapped. "Let go of me."

She sniffed as they did so, torn between regretting allowing herself such a show of emotion in front of these people and regretting not moving for her wand while she'd had the chance. Narcissa had never been a violent woman. Unlike her husband and her sister, she'd always preferred to solve her problems with words instead of with curses, but words, it seemed, would get her nowhere, now.

"Your transportation is outside," said one of the Aurors, glancing pointedly to the doors behind where Narcissa stood. "I'd suggest leaving quickly; the storm's supposed to get worse."

She sighed heavily and turned away, pushing open the doors and stepping out onto the dock as she raised her hood to shield her face from the rain that had begun to pelt the surrounding area while she'd been inside. She climbed into the boat she'd used to reach the prison and cast a final glance up at the walls separating her from her husband, mentally cursing each and every person responsible for what she felt was an incredible injustice.

Holding tight to the edge of the boat with one hand, Narcissa raised her wand with the other and flicked her wrist, and the boat began its course toward the shore. As a wave of nausea rolled over her, Narcissa closed her eyes, telling herself it was only seasickness. She didn't imagine she could endure another complication.


	3. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa visits her sister-in-law and makes a shocking realization.

Narcissa sat in the plush white chair she always chose when visiting the home of her sister-in-law, the warmth of the fire beside her not enough to completely chase away the chill that had soaked through her along with the rain. She'd wrapped herself in a blanket borrowed from Lucius's sister Lara, who was his junior by two years and Narcissa's by one, and accepted with a quiet word of thanks the cup of tea Lara passed to her before taking the seat to Narcissa's right.

"I can't believe you went out there alone," said Lara, shaking her head. Her eyes were the same grey as her brother's, and her blond hair was pulled back neatly enough to make Narcissa feel a bit disheveled in comparison, which didn't improve her mood. She'd looked impeccable when she'd left home that morning, as she'd hoped it might help to make her slightly more intimidating when facing the Aurors, but the storm had taken more out of her than she cared to admit. She was still trembling despite the heat off the cup in her hands, and her nausea had only multiplied when she'd returned to dry land. "It's unbelievably dangerous."

"I had to try. And I had to see him, even if it was just for a moment."

"How is he?"

"Angry. Rebellious." Narcissa sighed. "He resisted the guards, and I didn't exactly make it easy on them, either. It's ridiculous, Lara. The Ministry shouldn't be able to do this, and they've already—he's got a _tattoo_ , Azkaban markings..." She trailed off, staring down into the ripples breaking over the surface of the tea in response to her shaking hands. Less than a day ago, Narcissa had been convinced that everything was normal. She'd believed that this was just another mission—that Lucius would be returning home and they would be able to go on with their lives, he awaiting the next task and she pretending not to be a bit curious about what he had needed to do in order to return to her. Instead, he was trapped in Azkaban surrounded by dementors and Aurors and she'd nearly drowned after trying to reach him.

"Did you see Mathias?" asked Lara.

Narcissa shook her head. "I'm sorry. Only a few of them were in the group I saw; the Aurors must be separating them."

Lara nodded slowly and took a sip of her own tea, frowning. "I was asleep, when he left. When I woke this morning and he wasn't back, I panicked. I didn't know what to do. Then one of Fudge's lackeys showed up on the doorstep to tell me he'd been arrested."

Narcissa's stomach twisted. She wondered briefly whether it was more due to Lara's words or the persistent uneasiness that didn't appear to be leaving her anytime soon, and she blew a light breath across the surface of her cup before taking a drink. Lara had married Mathias Mulciber shortly after Hogwarts, and the pair had two children, the eldest of whom was in the year below Draco in school.

"I wish they'd been able to owl us," Narcissa said after a moment. "I nearly went mad waiting up."

"Well, that's why I made a point to tell you."

Narcissa looked up at the sound of the voice from the doorway. Bellatrix stood watching her, the elder sister's expression guarded.

"The elf let me in," Bellatrix added to Lara. A moment later, the small creature in question bobbed into view, leaning around Bellatrix's skirt to fix its large eyes on Lara.

"She insisted, Mistress—Elly tried to—"

"No, it's fine." Lara raised her hand, and the elf glanced nervously from her to the dark-haired witch and back. "Tea, Bellatrix?"

"I'm not staying. I went to the Manor looking for you, Cissy, and when you weren't home, I thought you might be here."

Lara waved to dismiss the elf and shifted her focus to her tea with a raised brow, and Narcissa closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath she hoped would steady her.

"I haven't been for long," she said. "I went to try to negotiate with Fudge's people, and when that didn't work, I went to the prison myself. You..." She paused, forcing herself to choose her words carefully. She knew Bellatrix hadn't exactly chosen to be the sole Death Eater who'd escaped punishment, and though she was severely unapologetic about it, Narcissa reminded herself that this was nothing new, for her sister. She'd been dragged into countless arguments between Bellatrix and Lucius over the years, and she believed if it weren't for her own sake and the backlash it would've surely brought from the Dark Lord, one of them would've maimed the other by now. Bellatrix was also incredibly devoted to her master— _to put it lightly,_ thought Narcissa—and unwilling to accept failure in his eyes, and regardless of what had really happened, Narcissa was unsurprised by her sister's eagerness to find someone to blame. "You should consider yourself lucky," she said at last. "Everyone else is in a lot worse shape than you are, right now."

"They're safer, where they are." Bellatrix started forward, folding her arms and glancing around the room at the portraits and decorations and everything but her sister as she went on. "The Dark Lord is furious." She rubbed almost unconsciously at her arm beneath her sleeve, and Narcissa wondered whether the Dark Lord had taken out some of that fury on her sister. "He says his plans have to change, now, and he's going to need to start recruiting, with eleven of us unable to assist him."

Narcissa took a long drink from her tea cup, biting back the urge to tell Bellatrix exactly how little she cared about what the Dark Lord did to replace the incarcerated Death Eaters and how much more logical and beneficial to everyone involved it would be if he were to focus instead on _freeing_ them. Thankfully, Lara spoke before the silence became long enough to draw suspicion as to Narcissa's dangerous line of thought.

"They may not be there long. The man the Ministry sent to tell me this morning said they're scheduled for trial within the next few weeks. Surely there's something we can—"

Bellatrix laughed scathingly, shaking her head as her lips twisted upward. "You're still so naïve, Lara," she said, her tone condescending. "You don't think the Ministry's already written their verdict?"

Lara frowned and shifted her focus from Bellatrix to the floor between them, her hands tightening on her teacup. "Narcissa did say they'd already given Lucius a prison tattoo."

Narcissa let out a frustrated noise, lowering her drink to rest on her knee so quickly it nearly spilled and letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. "Does anyone have anything productive to offer to this conversation? Because if not, I think I've had enough."

"I was looking for you," said Bellatrix, her eyes shifting to Narcissa, "to ask if I could stay with you for a few days. I've a feeling your place will be at least a bit safer than mine, considering I've already broken out once and they'll be looking for me to try to save everyone else."

 _Oh, if only they knew you,_ thought Narcissa bitterly. She loved her sister; since their childhood, Bellatrix had been one of a very slim number of people Narcissa had always known she could trust, and she knew that if she herself were in danger, Bellatrix would not hesitate to aid her. Narcissa questioned the truth of this only if the Dark Lord had expressly forbidden it, and in the present situation, she believed the punishment Bellatrix would likely incur for aiding those with whom her master was apparently livid would be more than enough to stop her from trying to intervene.

"Yes, Bella." The irritation had drained from Narcissa's tone as quickly as it had entered. She was too exhausted to devote more energy to trying to persuade her sister to feel guilt, and she did want to help, though she doubted how safe Malfoy Manor would be from Ministry investigation, in the coming weeks. "You can stay with me. Go and get your things, if you like, and I'll be home shortly."

"Thank you," Bellatrix muttered. She moved close enough to squeeze Narcissa's shoulder and gave Lara a nod before striding out the doorway through which she'd entered.

"She's as pleasant as ever," said Lara when Bellatrix had gone.

"I want to do what I can for her, but I can't endure her placing the blame for all this on Lucius."

"Is she really?"

Narcissa glanced down at her cup to find that she'd emptied it without realizing, and she shifted it to the table beside her. "That's what she said when she came by after midnight to tell me what had happened. I'm sorry—if I'd been in the right state of mind and realized no one would tell you, I would've come over sooner."

Lara shook her head, her gaze sympathetic. "I can't imagine anyone being in the right state of mind, after the kind of news we've gotten." She paused. "I couldn't make myself read the _Prophet_ , today—I imagine it's everywhere, by now. And I'm sure the children have heard." She rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and dropped her head into her hand, and Narcissa stared at her, her blue eyes widening in horror.

"I haven't written Draco," she said, the words leaving her lips before she could stop herself from letting her worries into the outside world. "He'll have heard about it from everyone but me, and he's bound to be devastated, and—"

" _Narcissa._ " Lara reached out to rest her hand on Narcissa's over the table between them, shaking her head firmly. "Draco will understand that you've been doing everything you can to fix this and get his father set free. He won't be angry with you."

Narcissa slid out of the chair and to her feet, squeezing Lara's hand apologetically before releasing it. "I need to get home and send him an owl. It's too late to reach him in the Great Hall, but maybe if I—"

She broke off as another wave of nausea overwhelmed her, this one much more powerful than the last. She glanced around the room in a panic and hurried for the wastepaper basket sitting beside the wall, mentally screaming at herself for this lapse in decorum as she was unable to stop herself from becoming violently ill. Lara hurried to her side, resting a hand on her back until Narcissa eventually lowered the basket, her face pale.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be ridiculous. Are you all right?"

Narcissa shrugged noncommittally. "I've just been feeling ill since I was at the prison. I thought I was seasick, but it's been a little too long for that, now."

"Did you eat something that could've caused it?" asked Lara.

"I..." Narcissa paused, shifting her eyes to the floor as she recalled that she hadn't eaten anything since she'd forced down a piece of toast before leaving home, as though she'd been too distraught to be hungry, she hadn't known when she would be returning and had believed she should make an attempt. "No, I haven't eaten since breakfast. It doesn't feel like food poisoning, anyway. In fact, I haven't felt like this since—" She froze, eyes wide as she stared forward without seeing the room around her. That was absurd. Yes, the feeling reminded her quite a bit of morning sickness, but that wasn't a reasonable diagnosis, was it? After all... after the amount of attempts it had taken her and Lucius to have Draco, with how much difficulty Narcissa had in becoming pregnant—not to mention her difficulty in carrying to term—what were the odds that it had now happened accidentally?

"You're not thinking—"

"I don't know," Narcissa said quickly, looking to Lara, who was watching her with raised brows and an open mouth. _It's certainly possible, yes,_ she thought, _but jumping to conclusions isn't going to help any_ —

"When was the last time—?"

" _Lara._ "

"I was going to ask if you'd missed—"

" _Please_ , just let me think." Narcissa racked her memory for the answers to the question she hadn't let Lara ask, and had she still possessed any color in her cheeks, it would've drained away as she realized that the conclusion to which she'd jumped was indeed a very plausible one. "Yes," she said at last. "I did. I... I'm... I can't be, not right now." Tears stung her eyes as the injustice of the situation crashed down on her as though it were made of lead. "Not while Lucius is gone."

"Cissy, this is a wonderful thing," said Lara, resting her hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "And I still don't think they'll be able to keep him for long. You need to try to believe that."

Narcissa nodded slowly, wishing that believing in anything ending positively was as easy as it had been before the return of the Dark Lord.


	4. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco comes home from Hogwarts.

"Can I bring you anything? Is your tea all right? If it isn't hot enough, I can—"

"Mother. It's okay. Really."

Narcissa bit her lip as she watched the pale and drawn face of her son, whom she sat beside on a green chaise in Malfoy Manor's lounge. The grounds were dark, as she could see in her periphery through the full-length window behind Draco, apart from a small spot of white in the form of a peacock strutting past the glass. Narcissa had spent the morning pacing the rooms and corridors of her home, running through hundreds of versions of the conversation she would have with Draco when he'd returned from Hogwarts. She hadn't been certain what piece of news would be the best with which to begin, and she'd practiced each of them in turn. _Draco, everything you've read in_ The Daily Prophet _is true; yes, the Ministry has arrested your father, and the years we spent trying to convince the Wizarding World that we were finished with the Dark Lord have been for absolutely nothing, because now they have proof otherwise. I know the letter I sent you came after you'd already heard about it from everyone else, and I still haven't forgiven myself for that. Draco, your aunt managed not to get arrested, unlike everyone else involved, and she's decided to blame your father for everything. She's also staying with us. Draco, I'm pregnant. I'm just as surprised as you are._

For the moment, she said none of this aloud. Now that he was here in her presence, safe at home and away from what she could only imagine had been a tortuous term's end surrounded by the judgment and censure of his schoolmates, she was in no hurry to upset him. Perhaps she could delay the inevitable for a few moments longer.

"How are you?"

She felt her cheeks flush as soon as she'd spoken the words, and she looked away from her son's face and down at her own folded hands in her lap in her embarrassment. She knew the question had been a stupid one. There was no way he could be well, with everything that was happening, but he was still and would always be her little boy, whom she'd pulled into her arms after countless long and tiring days and held and told stories and assured that everything would be all right. Even when she knew his answer before he gave it, she would never be rid of the reflex to ask how he was feeling.

"I'm fine," said Draco. "Given the circumstances."

Narcissa looked up as Draco raised the tea to his lips and drank, his face blank. His tone had been equally well-controlled, and as she realized how hard he seemed to be trying to shut her out, she felt suddenly ill. He lowered the cup and shook his head, setting it on the table in front of the chaise.

"I can get you something else, if—"

"Mother, stop. Worrying about me isn't going to bring him back."

Narcissa froze with her mouth still open, staring at the boy who looked so very much like his father and who appeared to have spoken without thinking and immediately regret it, as he reached out to take her hand in his own.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't—I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, Mum."

He leaned over to embrace her, and Narcissa held to him tightly, choking back the tears that wanted to burst forth. She refused to cry in front of him. She had to remain strong, for both of them. For the baby, and for Lucius. A moment passed in which Narcissa and Draco remained still, and then he closed his eyes, lowering his head a bit to rest it on his mother's shoulder.

"I've just been surrounded by fools at school, and every other word out of someone's mouth has been something against Father or you or me, and it's driving me mad. And then there's _Potter_ , walking around like he's some great hero for what he did, and it's infuriating. He gets to talk about it all like he's our savior for telling everyone the Dark Lord's returned. It's his fault—he's the one who got Father and the rest of them sent to Azkaban, and who're the rest of the students going to side with, really? Me or Dumbledore's pet?"

"Hush, now." Narcissa closed her eyes, her arms tightening around Draco and one of her hands moving upward to allow her to run her fingers through his white-blond hair, hoping to bring him some sort of comfort with the motion as she had when he'd been a child. Though he was barely sixteen, she thought he seemed so much older, though she knew that was probably because, like her, he had been worn down prematurely by the state of the world around him and the things he'd seen. As much as she wished it weren't true, she knew he had only just begun to see terrible things, and she would've traded anything to be able to shield him from how difficult life was about to become. "I'm so sorry you've had to face that," she said quietly. "It isn't fair for someone so young to be brought into all this."

"How old were you?"

Narcissa paused in her stroking of her son's hair, opening her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The first time the Dark Lord rose to power."

"I..."

She paused, frowning as she sought the words to explain. That period of history was one she had always tried to avoid discussing with Draco, as had Lucius. Naturally Draco had come to them with questions after hearing things at school or from other children whose parents had been involved, but Lucius and Narcissa had always believed that the less their son knew about what had transpired before his birth and in his infancy, the better it would be for him. There was no avoiding the truth, anymore, as she admitted to herself now. The Ministry would surely drag old evidence into play at Lucius's trial, and even if it didn't, rumors were sure to reach Draco sooner or later.

"I was about your age," said Narcissa. She gave Draco a final squeeze and leaned back to meet his eyes as she spoke, shifting to hold his hand instead. "We were still in school, when the Dark Lord's power started growing strong enough for people to notice. Your father joined him before leaving Hogwarts, like a lot of them did. Your grandfather Abraxas was already involved. He'd known the Dark Lord for a long time—how long, I'm not sure—and he made sure your father knew everything he could teach about what the Dark Lord wanted and how much it would benefit our kind, if he was successful. Your father started training to fight over holidays and then going back to school, where people knew something was brewing but they weren't sure what it was. He didn't talk about it much, back then. Most of what I heard came from my sister Bella, though that wasn't much either, because she'd already moved out of our house, by that time."

"Why didn't you fight with them?" asked Draco.

Narcissa shrugged. "Fighting isn't for me. Now, I can argue circles around anyone—even your father, sometimes—and I did everything I could to help them without taking the Mark. I've studied so much healing magic I'm fairly certain I could be hired at St. Mungo's, and I've had to use it far too often for my liking. But I've never wanted to be out there wearing one of the masks. Besides, your father made it clear early on that it wasn't an option. 'I'm doing this for you,' he said, 'so that you don't have to. For you and for Draco, so that you'll be safe.'"

Draco let out a short breath and shook his head. "Safe," he repeated.

"That's what he thought, Draco. We all did. We thought that if the Dark Lord won, our kind wouldn't have to keep living in secrecy, afraid the Muggles would persecute us or worse and the traitors would help them. Your father thought he was doing what was best by trying to create a world where we wouldn't have to hide. After the Dark Lord fell..." Narcissa sighed, running her thumb over the back of Draco's hand. "Most everyone else went to Azkaban, and we decided to tell the Ministry we'd acted against our will. Now they know that wasn't true, and I'm not sure what they're going to do about it."

Draco paused, frowning as he stared at a spot on the lush, dark green carpet. "Is there no hope, then?" he asked after a moment. "At the trial?"

"Of course there's hope." Narcissa squeezed Draco's hand and tried to give him a reassuring smile as he returned his focus to her, though she felt the expression was much less effective than she'd hoped when his own did not change. "We'll think of something. I don't care who I have to pay—" _or threaten,_ she added mentally, "—but I refuse to take this sitting down."

Draco nodded, watching her levelly. For a moment, Narcissa wondered whether he believed she truly had any ability to change the Ministry's mind, but then she decided she would rather not know the answer.

"Now, there are some other things I need to tell you, now that you're home."

Draco hesitated. "I don't know how much more bad news I can handle."

"It's not bad... exactly. Well, I suppose you can be the judge of that." Narcissa drew in a deep breath, her shoulders lifting to make her appear closer to Draco's height for a moment before lowering as she exhaled and returning her to her normal size. "Aunt Bella's staying with us, for a little while. I know the two of you haven't had much of a chance to bond, as she's been in prison since you were very young. It's going to be a bit of an adjustment. You should know that she's very... open about her opinions, to put it lightly, and I want you to remember not to take anything she says about your father to heart. All right?"

"That sounds promising," Draco said flatly. "Should I be expecting her to say something?"

"I don't know if she will, around you, but it wouldn't surprise me in the least."

"Is that all, then? I think I'll be able to handle Aunt Bella."

 _Easy to say without knowing her. And... here it is,_ thought Narcissa, the anxiety she'd successfully fought back returning once again as she knew it was time at last.

"There's one more thing. Draco... I'm pregnant."

He stared at her, his expression uncomprehending. "What?"

"I've only just found out, and your father doesn't know, yet. The only one who does is Aunt Lara, other than you."

"You..." Draco struggled for words for several moments, frowning. "Now?" he asked at last. "Of all times?"

"It isn't like we _planned_ it, or for anyof this to happen." Narcissa stared at her son, feeling increasingly like the situation was an overturned bowl of water that she was attempting to keep from running through her fingers. "I thought you'd always wanted a little brother or sister, anyway."

"And now I'm too old to grow up with him or her, and Father's..." Draco closed his eyes. A moment of silence passed between them, during which Narcissa wanted nothing more than to run into the middle of an empty field and scream until her lungs ached. Eventually, Draco opened his eyes again, squeezing her hand. "I do want a sibling. I'm happy about this, I really am. It's all just a lot to process."

"I know," said Narcissa, breathing a bit more easily after Draco's words. She wasn't certain she would've been able to handle it, if he'd gotten angry with her. "And I'm sorry to dump it all on you at once."

"You can't exactly help it—it's all happening."

"Yes, it is. Come here." She leaned forward to embrace him again, and as his arms wound around her, she felt him sigh. "No matter what's going to happen, we're facing it together, all right?"

"Yeah. And they won't keep Father forever."

"Of course not." Narcissa had to believe that. Anything else was unacceptable. "I love you, Draco."

"I love you, too."

Narcissa closed her eyes and held her son tighter, willing the rest of the world to give their family peace for just a while longer.


	5. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix joins Narcissa and Draco for breakfast and delivers some... ominous news.

_Just relax. Everything is going to be perfectly fine._

Narcissa didn't believe the words no matter how she tried to convince herself that they were true, but that didn't stop her from repeating them in her mind as she sat beside her son at the dining room table. She tried hard not to glance at the empty seat on her left, at the head of the table, no matter how strong the urge to do so became. It was habit, she knew, and one that she would have to suppress until the seat was filled again, if she didn't want to worsen the pain.

"So, is... _everything_ they say about Aunt Bella true?"

Narcissa turned her head to face her son, who sat on her right. The rest of the dark wooden chairs surrounding the long, ornate table were unoccupied, though the place directly across from Narcissa had been made up for Bellatrix, who was running several minutes late.

An instant passed in which Narcissa debated lying. She didn't want to encourage her son to hate his aunt before they'd had the chance to properly meet, but she knew if he didn't hear the truth from her, he was still likely to hear it from Bellatrix, who took too much pride in her exploits for the Dark Lord not to brag about them, presumably even to her sixteen-year-old nephew.

"Probably so," Narcissa admitted, picking at the corner of the napkin she'd rested in her lap. "But please don't let that ruin your view of her completely. She really does love us."

"She loves you," said Draco with a shrug. "She doesn't know me."

"She did when you were very young." Narcissa reached out to squeeze Draco's hand before returning her own to her lap. "Too young to remember."

"And she's been in Azkaban since then?"

Narcissa nodded, and Draco let out a sigh.

"You know," he said, "for everything wonderful I've heard about your side of the family—the Noble House of Black, everyone always says—I know very few of them."

"There _are_ very few of them, Draco," Narcissa said quietly. Her thoughts drifted to her childhood, when she'd lived with her parents and two sisters and spent holidays with cousins who were now dead. A few distant relatives remained, but no one she believed would be a particularly good influence on her son or the child now growing within her.

Narcissa and Draco sat in silence for several moments, and then the door to the kitchens opened, a rather small house-elf bobbing into the room.

"Is Mistress ready for Prim to bring out breakfast?" the elf squeaked.

"Not yet," said Narcissa, glancing to the plate left out for Bellatrix with a sigh. "Just a few more minutes, Prim. She'll be here, I'm sure."

"Yes, Mistress." The elf nodded hastily and turned for the door again, but she'd only taken a few steps when Bellatrix swept into the dining room through the double-doors connected to the corridor outside. Bellatrix scowled as she caught sight of the elf and then looked to the table, her dark eyes narrowing.

"Why isn't the food out yet?" she demanded. "Go and get it, you useless—"

"Bella," said Narcissa evenly, "I told her to wait for you. I thought we'd planned on eating at nine?"

Prim scurried back into the kitchens, and Bellatrix turned her gaze on her sister.

"I must've overslept," she said with a shrug. "Is that the same elf you had before?"

"No." Narcissa fidgeted with her wedding ring while waiting for her sister to sit, offering no further explanation on the absence of Dobby and hoping Bellatrix chose not to pry.

Bellatrix shrugged and strode lazily toward the table. She brushed past the seat reserved for her and slipped instead into the vacant one beside Narcissa, who watched her with an abject horror to which Bellatrix was either oblivious or uncaring. Draco, on the other hand, found his voice.

"That's Father's seat," he said sharply.

"Yes, well, I doubt he's worried about it, right now."

Narcissa closed her eyes and forced a deep breath into her lungs. Losing her temper would do precious little for anyone, at the moment.

"You look even more like him now than you did the last time I saw you," said Bellatrix. Narcissa opened her eyes at the sound of a plate scraping across the table, and she found her sister shifting each of the items that had been arranged for her at the ignored seat into place at the one she had chosen. "I'd hoped you'd get some of our side's coloration, but no such luck."

"I'd say the odds were against it," said Draco, his voice hot with irritation. "Maybe you'll have better luck with the next niece or nephew."

Narcissa looked to her son, her mouth falling open. "Draco!" She hadn't been prepared to give Bellatrix the news. She realized a moment too late that if she hadn't reacted, Draco's comment could've been passed off as hypothetical, and her cheeks burned.

"Cissy?"

Narcissa shifted her focus slowly back to her sister, who was watching her with both dark brows raised and the fork in her hand halfway to her plate in its path across the table.

"Yes, Bella. I've just found out I'm expecting."

A beat of silence passed, and then Bellatrix cackled. "Brilliant. Then I'll get to help this one learn to fight properly. I wanted to teach you, Draco, but circumstances..." She dragged the fork the remainder of the way toward her plate, and Narcissa cringed when the utensil scratched against the wood, leaving tiny marks in its wake. "Does your husband know?" Bellatrix asked, looking to Narcissa.

"Not yet."

The door swung open once again, and the elf bustled into the dining room, balancing plates of pastries, toast, bacon, sausage, and assorted other foods. Narcissa hadn't been certain what her sister would want, and so she'd requested a variety. Now, she found herself wishing she hadn't been quite so accommodating, but she pushed the thought away. Prim set the plates down and rushed back into the kitchens, returning moments later with a pitcher of water, with which she filled the goblets belonging to each person.

"Can Prim do more, Mistress?" the elf squeaked.

"No, thank you. We'll call you if we need anything else."

The elf bowed deeply and departed, the door swinging shut behind her. Bellatrix clicked her tongue.

"You're far too soft with it, Cissy."

"I ask her for what I need, and I see no point in being unnecessarily rude." Narcissa lifted her goblet to her lips and took a long drink of water, aware that she was holding on too tightly and that her knuckles were turning white but not caring. "Merlin knows we've made enough enemies," she said as she set the goblet down at last and returned her focus to her sister. "We don't need to go around making more just because we're having a bad day."

"You can't make an enemy of an elf," said Bellatrix, and Narcissa received the distinct impression from her sister's tone that Bellatrix believed she was lecturing a small child. "Its loyalty is to you. It doesn't have a choice."

"I've a feeling Kreacher would see things differently," said Narcissa coldly, shifting a pastry onto her plate as she narrowed her eyes at Bellatrix, "or have you forgotten that he's the one who told you what you needed to know to get his master killed?"

"Told _us_." Bellatrix stabbed a piece of sausage much harder than necessary with her fork. "Or have you forgotten? I'll take most of the credit—I did kill Sirius—but that elf did most of its talking to you, Narcissa."

Saying nothing, Narcissa took a bite of pastry, though she found it tasted much less appetizing than she'd hoped, with these thoughts dripping through her mind.

"You don't have to get quiet," said Bellatrix, reaching out to squeeze her sister's arm. "I'm proud of you. It's about time you got those hands of yours dirty."

Draco coughed, and Narcissa shrugged off Bellatrix's hand before looking to him.

"Why don't you tell your aunt how well you've done in school, love?"

 _Get her to focus on something that doesn't make me want to retch,_ Narcissa thought. The last thing she'd needed was to have guilt for Sirius's death dumped on her when she was already worried about too many other things to count. She wasn't sure what she found more sickening—the fact that she hadn't realized sooner how dirty her hands were in the matter of her cousin's death or the fact that she knew Bellatrix was completely sincere about being proud of her for her involvement, however inadvertent it had been.

Draco shrugged, taking a bite of bacon without looking up from his plate. "I made Prefect."

"Ah. I expect that made your parents proud," said Bellatrix. She glanced to Narcissa, who gathered from Bellatrix's expression that she both believed she was playing nicely and should be commended for it, and then back to Draco. "Each of them was Head—separate years, naturally."

"They told me." Draco continued eating, his focus remaining on his plate and deliberately away from his aunt.

"Bet they didn't tell you which rules they still broke."

"Oh, give it a _rest_ , Bella! Please!" Narcissa rolled her eyes and pushed her plate back several inches, finding her desire to eat severely diminished. "I'm trying hard not to be a completely dreadful influence on him, and in five minutes, you've already tried to bring up things I don't want to discuss and taken it upon yourself to teach both Draco and my unborn child how to fight. Is there anything else?"

Bellatrix drummed her fingers against the table and shrugged. "I was building up to it."

Narcissa's throat went dry. "What?"

"The Dark Lord wants to speak to Draco."

This, at last, captured the boy's attention. He looked to Bellatrix with wide eyes, and Narcissa's pulse began to accelerate. _What could he possibly want with Draco?_ she thought. _Why can't he just leave us alone?_

"Why?" Draco asked. "Why me?"

"I believe he has a task for you," said Bellatrix, "but I'm not completely certain."

_No. No no no. This can't be happening._

"A task?" repeated Draco. "Like... for the Death Eaters?"

Bellatrix nodded, her lips curling into a smirk. "Would you like that?"

"To join you—them? Like Father? I... of course. I'd be honored."

"Draco," said Narcissa quietly, shaking her head. She knew already that the argument was lost. Draco wanted to hear whatever the Dark Lord had to say, and arguing with what the Dark Lord wanted would only end in disaster. But even though the point was useless, Narcissa couldn't stop herself from protesting. "Love, you're so young..."

"But what if he thinks I'm ready?" The agitation the boy had shown moments before had dissipated, replaced instead by a fierce, determined excitement and a liveliness that Narcissa hadn't seen him show since he'd returned from Hogwarts. "What if I could impress him? Do you think he'd help us get Father out of Azkaban?"

Narcissa's heart ached. She opened her mouth to tell her son that no, she doubted the Dark Lord had any desire whatsoever to be of any assistance on that front, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. She couldn't disappoint him.

She was spared the need by Bellatrix, who clapped her hands together.

"I'm so glad to hear it, Draco," she said. "I don't know when he'll speak with you, but it will be soon. I'm sure you'll make us all proud."

"Please excuse me."

Narcissa pushed her chair back and started from the room without another word or glance at anyone. She couldn't bear to look at Bellatrix, and if she looked at Draco, she feared she would lose her grip and beg him to say he'd changed his mind. She hurried down the corridor and made her way up the stairs and to her chambers, where she closed the doors behind her and flung herself down onto the bed. She ran her fingertips over the golden, silken sheets and pressed her face to the pillows on the side on which she herself never slept, breathing in the scent of cologne that still lingered on them. 

***

_"I can't believe th_ _—they've taken her."_

_Narcissa held to Lucius's shoulders tightly enough that she was certain her fingernails had to be hurting him, but he didn't complain. He only stroked her hair with one hand and kept the other moving gently up and down her back as they lay beneath the canopy, he on his back and she with her head resting on his chest._

_"I know, Cissy," he said quietly. "I know. It's awful."_

_"Isn't there something we can do? Can't you talk to—?"_

_"I've already talked to everyone who'll listen. I tried to suggest to the Minister and to the Wizengamot that your sister acted under the Imperius Curse, but her own testimony made it incredibly clear that she'd meant absolutely everything she'd done, and it very nearly took away all my credibility for trying to convince them otherwise."_

_Narcissa sighed, and Lucius paused in his stroking of her hair to wipe a tear from her cheek._

_"I'm sorry," he said. "I wish there was more to be done."_

_"I do, too." Narcissa reached for her husband's hand and held to it tightly, bringing it to her lips. "Don't you ever leave me like that," she said. She attempted to sound stern, but she her voice cracked on the final syllable._

_Lucius's arm tightened around her, and he stretched out the thumb of the hand she held to brush her cheek. "Never."_


End file.
